I'm Coming For You
by KuraiFriendku
Summary: "Uh, hey, do me a favor." Another bang. Mike slowly eased the chair down to four feet. "Maybe sometime, uh, you could check inside those suits in the backroom?" More banging as the night watch rose from his seat. "I'm gonna try to hold out until someone checks. Maybe it won't be so bad." This is where the story branches from the game. This is where Mike actually checks for Scott.
1. I'm Coming

Mike looks at his watch. 11:40. He had everything ready- flashlight, spare clothes, pepper spray. Just in case.

Ever since night two he'd gotten into the habit of preparing early. The guy was still listening to the recording when he came this close to having fox teeth somewhere in his skull...thank goodness for tennis reflexes.

He reached over the desk, smiling at the blinking red button indicating a message, and pressed play.

"Hello, hello?"

"Hey." Even if it was just a recording, it's nice to hear the other man's voice. Scott and Mike had met in person on more than a few occasions after night one- mostly around the pizzeria. They exchanged numbers at some point and would chat after the newbie finished his shift. The two talked a lot in the past few days; it was safe to say they'd become pretty close.

"Hey, wow, day four. I knew you could do it." Mike picked up the flashlight and waved it around, casting shadows around the room. Of course he made it. He's learned from the best.

"Uh, hey, listen, I may not be around to send you a message tomorrow." His chair that was balancing on two legs had paused in its swaying at the sound of banging. It wasn't even midnight, plus both the doors were open. The sound couldn't be coming from his current surroundings.

"It's- it's been a bad night here for me. Um, I-I'm kinda glad that I recorded my messages for you-" The voice cleared its throat. "-uh, when I did."

"Scott?" Mike called to the prerecorded man. Obviously, there was no answer.

"Uh, hey, do me a favor." Another bang. Mike slowly eased the chair down to four feet. "Maybe sometime, uh, you could check inside those suits in the backroom?" More banging as the night watch rose from his seat. "I'm gonna try to hold out until someone checks. Maybe it won't be so bad."

The banging competed with Michael's voice as he shouted, "Scott, you better be joking with me!"

"Uh, I-I-I-I always wondered what was in all those empty heads back there." Freddy's chime started to play and the dark brown-haired male widened his icy blue eyes.

"You know..." A moan played, probably Freddy's. "Oh, no-"

Screeching and static were both played, but Mike only heard the first before bounding down the corridor, not a second thought coming to mind. He still had, at the very least, five minutes (probably more if he had bothered to check his watch). There was no way the phone guy could last the entire shift in the backroom...the newbie hoped Scott made it through his own. He didn't want to think about what happened if he didn't.

What they referred to as the "backroom" was officially labeled "Backstage," filled with animatronic parts and located right by the stage. It was creepy as hell, not to mention Bonnie occasionally liked to wander in. Said bunny, along with his two friends, watched the night guard out of the corner of their eyes as he flung open the door and dashed in.

"Scott?" He yelled, scanning the room for signs of life. There was no reply, visually or aurally.

"Scott!" Little droplets formed at the sides of his eyes. This wasn't good. No, this had to be a prank! The phone guy was just finishing up his last week, too...

Mike paced around the room, rubbing his icy blue irises that reflected with the tears. He peeked into every nook and crevice he could find, looked up and down the rows of masks, under the table...nothing. The worst part was, there weren't many places to look.

"Scott, you better answer me right this damn minute!"

To his surprise, a tiny whimper barely caught his ears, followed by some shuffling noises. The tan male turned around to the shelves behind the door. The bottom shelf was empty, and the parts it normally held were instead propped up underneath it. He had overlooked them originally, assuming the shelf was too low and there were too many parts to fit a person there. But now one of the arms was sticking out in a way it hadn't before, and a semi-shiny black shoe poked out of where it wasn't concealing.

"Scott!"

He shot down to the floor and yanked the parts from under the shelf to reveal another man sprawled out on the tile. His deep black hair was lay strewn across the ground, red sticking to several clumps. His violet shirt was shredded in different places to reveal a few cuts and bruises, the pants in not much better condition. Scott's entire body was shaking, his glasses shattered just a few inches from the raven-haired head. What worried Mike the most was his eyes- glossy, chocolate eyes, not half-lidded or hidden entirely, but widened as far as they could go with terror and staring right at the newbie.

"M-Mike...?"

"Oh my god!" The taller, unharmed male reached his arms out to wrap one around the phone guy's waist and one around his chest. He continued to drag the shorter out from under the shelves with some help from said man that involved crawling with one arm.

"M-Mike," His voice was raspy and dry, though the likelihood of there being some blood in his throat was rather high. "Y-you came...for-"

"Shut up!" It wasn't meant to come out so harsh, but as Mike helped his friend to his feet, a twinge of guilt stabbed at his heart. "Don't talk. I'm getting you to a hospital!" He immediately looked at his watch while Scott brought the working arm around his shoulders.

"Shit! We need to hurry!"

"I-I don't think-"

"Shut _up!_ Do your legs work?"

"Yeah-"

"Then move!"

They both hurried, but with Scott's condition, his speed was so slow that Mike was practically dragging him along.

A click, however, stopped them dead in their tracks.

Mike turned his head slowly around to the three animatronics standing perfectly on the stage. It wasn't midnight; there was no way those things could be moving.

 _"Click!"_

No, it wasn't any of the main three.

His attention returned to Scott as the man began to quiver even more violently and whispered to him, voice about to crack with fear, "Mike..."

They were barely out of the backroom. In other words, heading to the exit, but not far enough away from the hallway that they couldn't sprint at the sight of a golden suit slouching just a few feet in front of them.

The two made it into the office just as the clock struck twelve.

* * *

 **If you haven't noticed, this is going to be Mike/Phone Guy, a.k.a. Microphone.**


	2. We're Here

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit- where's my phone?!" Mike tore out his pockets, but no cellular device came out. He made a sharp gasp of air before shouting, "I must've dropped it!" Tan fingers curled around the old landline loaded with messages.

"Mike, that phone...can't call. It hasn't-"

"What?!" The taller male opened his mouth to presumably let out a long stream of curses, but was cut short by a loud groan of pain as Scott clutched the side of his abdomen, face twisted in agony.

"Scott!"

Mike's call was answered by him coughing up a few drops of crimson fluid.

"Damnit, don't die on me!"

"T-there's a first aid kit...under the...desk."

The newbie's hands felt along the bottom of the wood. Indeed, out came a large white box with a red cross. He opened it, only to be met with a plethora of foreign objects.

"How do you use these things?!"

Scott weakly held out his good arm and Mike handed him the open box. Two rolls of gauze were set on the table, along with a few marked liquids and some cotton balls. The brunette picked up one of the bottles and read its label.

"Rubbing alcohol?"

"Huh? N-no...which one says Neosporin?"

Mike frowned. His friend's far-sightedness wasn't going to be of much help.

"You have spare glasses?"

"At home…"

He growled and pulled a piece of paper out of the box. Good, instructions _. "So you have to wrap this white stuff around his head?"_

Scott peered behind the blue-eyed man's shoulder to the window where a dark figure loomed over the glass. "Door…"

The taller's hand reflexively blocked the figure from entering with a device known as the 'close button'. A dirty yellow chicken loomed over them, glaring through the glass. To Mike, it seemed a bit more...violent than usual. Aggressive. Like it had an emotional attachment to its prey. But that's stupid...after all, it's just a robot.

He flipped the tablet to Pirate's Cove, set it on the desk and kneeled in front of Scott. The instructions were a bit of help, but still confusing as hell. Maybe if you put it on this way…?

Tan hands whirled around the smaller figure. Every now-and-then they'd brush against a bit of non-marked skin and send goosebumps to its receiver, who could still blush despite the state of health he was in.

By the time Mike had finished, the phone guy looked like a broken mummy.

Mike flipped on the light, a large robot was absent from the window, and so he opened up the door to once more let in a black abyss. He flicked on the tablet, Foxy still behind curtains, then redirected his attention back to the injured man.

The man stared back at him with tired eyes. His face held a small smile and pink tint that danced across his cheeks like a flame.

"What are you staring at?"

Scott turned away quickly, though he couldn't get far without having pain spike up his neck.

"N-nothing." The pink tint increased.

For a moment, there was silence. It wasn't until Mike leaned toward Scott, arm outstretched, that the latter heard his heartbeat faster, faster, their faces inches apart, and right when Scott thought they'd crash…

...Mike kept going.

 _Clank!_

The door slammed shut behind Scott, who face was a nice rosy shade, and his brown eyes looked to Mike for an answer.

"Bonnie," was his reply and he gestured to the giant purple bunny only distanced by a metal slab.

Scott looked at the clock. Two hours pass rather quickly when your life is in danger.

"Can you move your arm?"

"Huh?"

He had picked up the tablet with one arm, flipped through it with one arm and set it down with one arm. The other hadn't even moved.

"Can you move your arm?" Mike repeated, flicking on the light for a split second and opening the door.

"I _can_ -"

"Show me."

He moved it a little ways, slowly, face clenched in pain. A little more, bit his lip to keep from screaming. A little more-

"That's enough, that's good!" Mike moved to catch the falling arm. "I didn't mean to hurt yourself!"

"That's what I was...trying to tell you…"

The brunette frowned even more than he had before. "Oh."

Another silence as the two took in how much distance was between them. Mike was kneeling in front of the other, his hands cradling Scott's broken arm. Scott was leaning over Mike and clutching his abdomen with the other.

"Mike…."

"Save your voice. It's gotta last the rest of the night. Let me see your side." Scott lifted up the side of his shirt and Mike finished the job, tossing aside the torn-up garment. A nasty red spot marked the side of the paler one's ribs.

The worry was spreading in Mike's body that that wasn't something he could provide a temporary fix for. "How bad does it hurt?"

"Bad...I think my spleen's gonna explode."

The taller gently pressed a hand to the injury, causing Scott to flinch. It was burning hot.

"Damnit, Scott!" he groaned. "Where's the ice?"

Said man flashed him a look as if it were obvious. "The kitchen…?"

Of course. Maybe he could-

A strand of musical notes reached their ears in a specific, classical pattern. It seems like Freddy wanted to cook.

Mike put his hand over Scott's heart to feel for its pulse- fast but strong, a good sign.

"W-what are you doing?" the flustered man asked his companion.

"Checking your heartbeat. It's strong as hell, thankfully."

"How much longer?"

Check Pirate's Cove, check the clock. "Three-and-a-half hours."

"How much...power?"

"62 percent. We gotta be careful."

"There's...there's no way out until morning, is there?"

The brunette slumped against the side wall. He almost seemed more tired than his injured, worn out friend in the office chair. Bags were already present under his eyes and color was lacking in most areas of his face. Why would the near death of a close friend stress him out more than the friend itself?

He sighed. "I don't think there is."


	3. For You

Only 4 A.M. and they were already down to 20 percent power. It didn't help that Foxy swung by a few more times than he should've.

Scott was currently situated in the office chair, shirt hung over his good shoulder. Mike loomed by a door, periodically switching which door to check lights. He peeked at the tablet again.

19 percent…

He muttered some curses when met with a bear's face in the window.

"Mike?"

"Shut up! We're gonna make it!"

"No, Mike!"

"Huh?"

Mike looked over to his companion, who was once again shaking in place. Chocolate eyes were set somewhere below the desk, locked on some invisible terror…

"D-do you see it…?"

"See what?" He moved behind Scott to look from the man's perspective, but nothing stuck out as unusual.

"Th-the suit! Golden Freddy…"

Mike looked at him, confused, as he reopened the door.

The other returned his gaze with a horrified smile. "I-I'm finally going mad…!"

The more muscular, unharmed of the two knelt in front of Scott while holding onto his face, forcing the latter to look at him.

"Do not lose it on me! We're going to make it, you hear?!"

"But the power…"

"We're going to make it!"

4:15 A.M., 12 percent.

"Mike…!" Scott's face was flaring up, his teary brown eyes gazing into Mike's blue. He held a terrified expression and looked to his companion for any form of comfort.

"I _told_ you to save your voice."

The injured used his good hand to remove Mike's. Instead of pushing him away, however, Scott returned the favor and brushed against Mike's cheek, causing the blue-eyed one to mirror his blush. He guided Mike's head downward, granting Scott the ability to brush aside some bangs and kiss him on the forehead.

"I just wanted...to say...thank you...f-for saving me."

4:20 A.M., ten percent.

The somehow less flustered one leveled his head with Scott's. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn't formulate any words and closed it again.

Scott turned away. "I-I'm sorry...I thought you said before you...didn't like girls-"

Mike replied in a softer, less edgy tone. "I told you to save your voice." He wiped away a tear forming at the corner of a chocolate eye and smiled.

4:30 A.M., five percent.

Then he remembered where they were.

He slammed down the left door in Bonnie's face and cursed as Chica appeared in the right, causing him to shut that one, too.

4:31 A.M., four percent.

"Mike…?"

"We're _not_ going to die!"

"You promise?"

"..."

4:32 A.M., three percent.

Mike moved to open the doors as soon as he saw the robots missing. They never left that quickly...something was happening.

4:33 A.M., two percent.

"Mike…?"

The lights began to dim even lower than they already were. Scott looked to his crush, more tears threatening to fall. He held a smile, though. Throughout all this, he held a smile, and not even a crazed one. It was one of comfort, one that said, _"I know we're not gonna make it, but at least I'm going to die with you."_

"Pirate's Cove!"

Mike slammed the door shut once more, just in time to hear a loud 'BANG!".

"Mike!"

"I _told_ you we're going to live!"

"You promise?"

 _Bang bang!_

"..."

"Mike!"

 _Bang bang!_

Scott stopped asking. Of course Mike didn't promise- he couldn't. They were going to die in that office and the only reason Scott hadn't before was so he could wait for Mike.

 _Bang bang!_

" _Do you promise?"_ The words echoed in Mike's head. Could he? Scott had escaped once, so there was obviously a way. Foxy wouldn't let them go, but if the power was out, Freddy tended to dominate the night, stalking his prey for awhile before attacking. If that were the case, they might be able to bolt for the exit in time...question was, could they make it?

 _Bang bang!_

4:35 A.M, zero percent.

* * *

 **The next part is going to be uploaded tomorrow night, probably around eight (Eastern Standard Time). It'll be the final chapter and I don't know whether or not I want to do a sequel...I don't exactly have an idea for one yet. We'll see.**

 **Also, my friend Plushie made some nice artwork of this little kiss scene. Why not take a peek?** **art/I-m-Coming-For-You-FNaF-Scott-x-Mike-554374047?ga_submit_new=10%253A1439831764**

 **(in case the link doesn't work, look up "I'm Coming For You. (FNaF Scott x Mike)" by FriendlyLights on DeviantArt. Plush thinks the artwork isn't good, but let's all prove that wrong!)**


	4. We're Gone

"I promise."

Mike grabbed the flashlight, then snatched up Scott bridal-style just as Freddy's jingle started to play.

"Mike! What are you-?!"

"Getting the hell out of here!"

He dashed through the doorway not containing glowing eyes, bolted down the hall without much trouble, but started to feel himself slowing upon reaching the main room.

"Damn you're...heavy, Scott…"

"S-sorry!" He wouldn't show it, but it made Scott feel terrible that he couldn't lift his own weight. Why didn't Mike just leave him to die like he was supposed to?

A couple of seconds later, Mike was out of breath, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop, he promised Scott they'd live.

"Hey, kids!" a feminine voice called from their right. "N-n-no running in the- in the building!"

Two yellow wings swiped at Scott's legs, but Mike turned, instead allowing them to dig through his back. He bit down on his lips hard to hold back a scream.

"Mike! Look out!" A purple bunny jumped out of the bathroom hall, screaming down the brunette's neck. He kept running.

Freddy's jingle grew louder, louder; he couldn't be more than half a room away, and Mike's legs were sore, his lungs on fire…

They were two tables away from the exit when another voice echoed in the room.

"Ya land lovers be stirrin'- stirrin' up trouble?! I'll have ye w-w-walk the plank!"

Footsteps. Loud, metallic footsteps.

Something whooshed in front of them- something big and gold. Five feet from the exit, but with the tables, it completely blocked their path.

More footsteps. Pit-pat-pit-pat-pit-pat-! So close! Couldn't go back, couldn't move forward, there was no way they could make it out ali-!

 _Whoosh!_

 _Crash!_

Mike turned between two tables as Foxy zoomed past them, unable to stop before crashing into his golden friend, sending them both up against the wall. It wasn't a permanent fix, but bought the guards just enough time to bolt through the exit. Mike _still_ didn't stop until he reached his car, swinging open the passenger seat and dropping Scott inside.

The brown-eyed one wouldn't accept that. He crawled into the driver's seat while Mike cried, "What the hell are you doing?! You can't drive with one arm! You can't even see the dashboard right!"

"You can't drive bleeding out your back!"

Mike was about to yell at him to move but heard a crash from the doors and hopped into the passenger seat himself, flinging the keys to Scott. "Go!"

In two seconds they were driving out of the parking lot (though running over some grass on the way). Thankfully, the pizzeria wasn't off of a main road, so when Scott swerved to avoid a lamp post, he had plenty of room to do so.

"We made it." Mike sighed, leaning back in his chair and grunting at the reminder of cuts in his back. "Pull over so I can take the wheel."

"What? But-"

"Scott, I'm _still_ in better shape than you. And you're drifting into the other lane!"

The phone guy made a sharp right into a field next to the restaurant. Mike opened the door to get out after ripping off his seatbelt. Scott followed suit with the belt, but held onto the first's wrist.

"Scott, I really need you to let me take the wheel! My back's not that bad and you can't drive without your glasses!"

The shorter shook his head. "I wanna bandage you first. You helped me and-"

"I don't have bandages in here."

"No first aid kit?"

"Nope."

Scott reached for his shirt that lay torn up on the car's floor. It had somehow managed to stay with him, only to fall upon relaxing in the car.

"Please sit down; I can use this! It's not really that wearable anymore anyway."

He did as he was told, grudgingly. Mike sat back in the passenger's seat, rear facing Scott. The other man took this as a sign to continue. He ripped off the navy blue uniform that wanted to be stuck in the wound, and Mike let out a half-second scream before catching himself.

"I'm sorry-"

"Just keep going."

He tore a piece off of his own violet shirt and wrapped it around Mike's torso, careful not to stray over the wounds. It wasn't the quickest process with just one arm.

"Hold this, please." Scott handed him one end of the strip and looped it loosely around his waist, then pulled it upward until it was secured in place. Despite the pain from the slightest touch, Mike began to relax. After all, the only one touching him right now was Scott. There wasn't any reason to be worried right now. Maybe they'd worry what to do for a source of income (even if some miracle came by and they _weren't_ fired, this was Scott's last week and Mike be damned if he had to step foot in _that_ place again), maybe they'd worry about telling the hospital what caused their injuries (wasn't there some kind of oath they had to take when they first got hired? Y'know, about not telling anyone what goes on), but for now, there was no worry.

"Mike?" The gentle voice snapped him out of his trance and his attention was brought back to the now fully-bandaged wounds that still felt like knives were digging into him. That feeling would go away, though. Probably.

"Yeah?"

"You can take the wheel now."

The brunette slowly eased out of his seat, allowing Scott to take his place. He moved to close the door, then stopped. What happened back at the pizzeria...he had been thanked for taking care of the guy's wounds, so it was only right to return the favor, right?

Mike bent down so that their faces were level, only a few inches apart. He looked Scott dead in the eyes, cupped the man's face between his hands and leaned forward.

"What are you doing? You're hurting my eyes…"

"Then close them, silly." The brunette leaned forward and brushed against Scott's lips with his own, though only for just a moment. That moment seemed to be enough to light the paler one's face on fire. Mike left him like that- taken back, a bit stunned, but extremely happy- so he could walk to his side of the car.

Just as he got in and was about to offer some sort of verbal gratitude, a 'THUNK!' came from their rear.

A giant metal fox had left a nice dent on the trunk's hood.

"Shit!" Mike screamed, kicking the formerly idle engine into full swing and hightailing it out of there. The animatronic scrambled after, and maybe on foot they would've been caught, but even Foxy's speed couldn't keep up with a car going 80-some miles per hour down an empty road at 4:57 in the morning.

Scott's expression turned to one of sheer horror, even as the fox became just a spec in the distance. "Th-they can come _outside?!"_

The younger takes a glance out the car's mirror, relieved to find none following them. "I doubt they'd come this far, it was just stupid to stop right next to the place."

The phone guy looks in the mirror on his side, too, then down at the floor. "I think I'm calling in sick tomorrow."

"You better damn believe you are!"

Another silence. Those seemed to be pretty common between these two, didn't they?

"Mike? When I bandaged you, and you-"

"I mean it."

Scott's eyes brightened like he was a little kid again. "Really?"

Honestly, how much assurance did this guy need to be convinced Mike loved him, anyway?

* * *

 **Welp, here it is. Fourth and final chapter. I suck at writing action scenes, sorry.**

 **Still not sure if I'm doing a sequel or not. Still don't have an idea for one. What do you guys think?**


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